


Jack Skellington's Dog

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Movie Night, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt for Sastiel domestic bunker scene.</p><p>Halloween is only good for one thing: hunting evil. But there's a very NOT supernatural virus hunting Sam, and he's been benched for the night. Between the illness and the boredom, he's hardly the best patient, but Castiel is determined to find something they can enjoy together. Enter Tim Burton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack Skellington's Dog

Sam hated Halloween. It had always seemed ridiculous to him. He wasn't big on birthdays. He wasn't so impressed with Christmas. Memories of past Thanksgivings made his stomach anxious. Valentines Day kind of weirded him out, ever since he met a real Cupid. The only holiday he ever really liked was Independence Day, and that was mainly because he liked fireworks and staring up at the stars.

It wasn't like they were getting trick-or-treaters at the damn bunker. The candy was bought at the gas place, and Dean had gone through the entire bag in a few hours. And there were probably plenty of things out there celebrating Samhain's night that needed killing.

But Dean had made the call. Apparently he drew the line at hunting while his kid brother was coughing his lungs out. He had headed out to a bar where he could appreciate the effort the ladies put into their costumes, and told Castiel to not let Sam leave the bunker unless it was on fire or under attack. And if it was under attack, they should call Dean, because girls with cat ears and tails or not, he wanted in on the fight.

So now Sam was sprawled out on the couch, not sleepy, but exhausted, not hacking as horribly as before, but clearly not ready for any sort of action. It was miserable.

"Why can't you just heal me?" he complained grouchily. He hated how nasal he sounded.

Castiel didn't bother looking up this time. "I told you why. Your immune system must fight its own battles or you will remain susceptible to the same virus."

"So I'll deal with it next time."

"Sam, you sound more like a child than you did when I first met you, nearly nine years ago."

"I was jacked up on blood then. Now I'm just full of plague."

Castiel frowned. "While there are similarities, this virus-"

"I'm so bored!" Sam whined in a voice that carried over the whole empty bunker.

The angel sighed. "You dismissed all of my ideas for recreation."

"Because I want to go out."

Castiel threw his hands in the air. "Of the two of you, it never would have crossed my mind that you, not your brother, would be the infuriating one while sick!"

"Oh, he's a complete pain in the ass. You think I'm bad? Dean once got thrown out of a clinic when we were kids because he was carving the tongue depressors into tiny stakes with a pocket knife. We both caught pneumonia once after a hunt for a will-o-wisp at Lake Superior, and I thought Dad was going to leave us behind, because we were so impossible to deal with. We don't like being out of the game."

"I suggest that we find a movie to watch. Would that make you feel less bored?"

"I guess," he sighed miserably. "Will you sit with me?"

"Will you stop whining?"

"Probably not," he admitted.

The angel heaved another sigh as he lowered himself to the couch. "I don't understand. You and your brother have literally died and gone to Hell. How can you be so petulant about being sick?"

"It's not like pain. Pain, you can muscle through. This just...sucks."

Castiel seemed to take this explanation. "I see."

Sam grumbled at the television. He had rigged it to receive cable when Dean had gotten himself cursed by those damn witches and he couldn't walk for a week without feeling needles in his feet. So there were plenty of choices. But Sam wasn't as easily amused as Dean and Castiel when it came to television. He flipped through the channels irritably.

Then he paused.

Castiel turned to look at him. "Is this what you want?"

Sam stared. "I must have seen this a hundred times."

The angel tilted his head. "It is...artistically...strange."

Laughing caused a round of coughing that left Sam even more exhausted. He slumped into Castiel's shoulder, and smiled as his lover wrapped an arm around him.

Sam finally ended up with his head in Castiel's lap and his long legs curled up as well as they could. A soft blanket suddenly appeared over him, at Castiel's command. Sam couldn't help smiling and wriggling tighter into the angel's strong arms. He felt long fingers begin scratching gently at his scalp, and he finally decided maybe staying home and watching movies with his lover wasn't the worst way to spend a night, if he had to be out of the game.

Castiel was fascinated by Tim Burton's masterpiece. He watched in complete, rapt silence until an advertisement came on. Then he leapt into analysis and interpretation.

Sam chuckled at the angel's obsession with Jack's ghost dog, and what he might represent in this clearly metaphorical story. It was fun to hear Castiel's take on the whole thing.

"So it's the pagan world discovering Christ, but becoming disillusioned with the materialism associated with the culture. After attempting to integrate Christianity into its culture, it returns to its roots, rejuvenated in its revival of the old ways, but all the while, the Holy Ghost has been with them and remains with them. They benefit from His love without even being aware of it, and without having to change their culture to suit another."

"So the dog is God."

Castiel sighed happily. "So many stories depict the Lord as unforgiving of any culture which is not wholly Christian. It is refreshing to see Him as a companion to a society which celebrates different values but is essentially harmless in its practices. So long as people are good and faithful, they need not be excluded from Paradise."

Sam smirked up at him. "Yeah? What about all the demonic undertones? They aren't even undertones. They're overtones."

Castiel smiled down patiently, and continued to stroke his hands through soft sable hair. "That is simply your learned cultural prejudice, Sam."

He barked out a hoarse, surprised laugh. "Cultural prejudice!"

"Certainly. Many cultures have great respect for their dead, and their rituals include what you may consider macabre or even morbid activities. That makes them no less faithful to the Divine. They simply perceive their relationship to the creation of my Father differently than do those you are familiar with here in Kansas and most of this country."

He bit down his laughter, and stared up at the angel with adoration. "I'll try to be more open-minded in the future."

"Do," Castiel agreed. Then he gave a small smile. "How do you feel, Sam?" The blue gaze was full of devotion and love. It was practically a painkiller.

"Better with you holding me. Maybe we could watch another?"

Castiel leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Whatever you want, Sam."

They found another classic, and Sam snuggled in to find out if _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ would illicit the same philosophical commentary from his lover that _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ had. As the constant, loving hand combed through his hair, he was lulled into a peaceful sleep, thinking that perhaps Halloween inside with an angel, instead of outside hunting the ghouls of the night, wasn't all bad.


End file.
